Chapter 53: The Zipper and the Tailor

The clothing in this world was, without exception, excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Of course, some wore bizarre outfits just to stand out.

But even they wouldn’t pass up comfortable, quality clothes if they became available.

‘Let’s start with a prototype.’

I racked my memory and sketched the zipper in detail.

My habit of observing things closely proved useful in moments like this.

I could create a relatively accurate blueprint.

“Oh? Quite an unusual shape. Aha! So it interlocks and releases by sliding back and forth like this?”

“Exactly. You caught on quick. Think you can make it?”

“Of course. But what material?”

“…”

I fell into thought again.

No plastic here, so that was out.

That left metal— preferably something corrosion-resistant.

Fortunately, there was a suitable option.

Brass was fairly common in this world too.

Used for church vessels and brass instruments.

“Brass. Higher zinc content would be good.”

“How much?”

“Forty percent.”

I’d overheard somewhere that gave the highest strength.

Better if it didn’t break easily.

Vargas nodded readily and picked up the blueprint.

“Can I come get more material if I run out?”

“Yeah, sure. How much can you use, anyway?”

“The demigod by-product doesn’t take much for ductility. What we collected last time should last about three months.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘come get more’?”

“There’s one here too. A demigod.”

His casual remark made my eyes widen.

It reminded me of Adam, working as a potter.

‘Ah, right. That guy claims to be a god too?’

From Vargas’s reaction, Adam could produce the by-product as well.

I’d have to ask him directly how.

“Good. Go make the prototype first.”

“Yes.”

I headed straight to the pottery workshop.

But there was a small hill behind the building that hadn’t been there before.

It looked like black soil— probably raw material or waste.

‘No way they’re just piling it up here? Should build a warehouse instead. Gotta tell them to clean it up.’

I clicked my tongue and stepped inside.

“Yo—”

—You’re here.

Adam had just finished work and plopped down in a chair.

Grumbling complaints as usual.

—It’s flashy, but I really hate it. It kills me every time I move.

“That’s why I’m here— to fix that.”

—How?

“I’m making new styles of clothes. What do you think?”

I showed him the sketches from the office, and his eyes went round.

He couldn’t tear his gaze from the tuxedo in particular.

Must really like that style.

—Th-This?

“It’s roomy, so no more discomfort. And with this zipper, it’s easy to put on and take off.”

Adam’s thighs were massive, making regular clothes hard to wear.

Just look at him now.

His leggings were bulging like they might burst.

But a belt and pants zipper would solve everything.

—Amazing! Who knew such a thing existed! So when do we start?

“Not yet. Need to produce the zipper first.”

—Sounds like it won’t take long.

“Right. You might see it soon? But there’s one condition.”

—What?

“I need demigod by-product. Vargas says you can make it too.”

Adam fell silent for a while.

Must be a tough offer.

Probably some hurdles.

Like needing massive resources to produce it.

Or requiring serious sacrifices?

But his response completely defied my expectations.

—I’m not a demigod.

“Huh?”

—I’m not some demigod— I’m the god of the earth!

Ah, that’s what pissed him off?

Then production wouldn’t be an issue.

I held up my hands to calm him.

“Fine, fine. Let’s call it god by-product. But how much can you make?”

—It generates whenever I use my power.

“Hm? Then where’s it all at?”

—Too lazy to throw out, so I piled it up. It volatilizes on its own over time anyway. Takes a while, though.

“Wait, piled up? Where?”

—Didn’t you see it on the way? Right behind the workshop.

“Ha!”

I let out a hollow laugh, blinking.

‘So that whole hill is demigod by-product?’

Far more than expected.

Enough to mass-produce zippers.

“You’re tossing it anyway— mind if I use some?”

—Of course not. But make my clothes first, fast.

“I’ll bring the prototype right away.”

—Looking forward to it.

I immediately summoned Vargas and ordered him to haul the by-product.

Precision crafting didn’t take long.

Probably because magic was involved.

The issue was sourcing the by-product material.

‘Guys like Adam or Feltron aren’t common.’

Vargas presented the zipper with a proud expression.

Teeth densely embedded in elongated wool fabric, with a slider attached.

It looked no different from what I remembered.

The brass gave it a more vintage feel than plastic.

“Oh? Better than I thought.”

“I made those small buttons you mentioned too.”

“Not bad.”

Vargas’s precision work was flawless.

I tested the zipper repeatedly— no malfunctions.

Zip! Zip!

The sound of opening and closing matched my memory perfectly.

“Yes! This is it. Now, time to recruit some hardworking staff?”

A large notice went up on Midias’s market bulletin board.

Seeking tailors and seamstresses.

“Looks like the Carius duke is up to something again.”

“Anyone who’s handled clothes at all— no age or gender restrictions?”

“Whoa! What kind of hiring terms are these? Then my wife or daughter could pass too?”

“Yeah, it says anyone.”

“Hmm! But letting women go there is a bit…”

“True. Didn’t that last trafficking incident use jobs as bait?”

“Urgh!”

Public reaction was somewhat negative at first.

Thanks to Skyler Sierre’s massive scandal.

But opinion flipped quickly.

“No, but it’s posted by His Grace the Carius duke.”

“You can trust him. Everyone’s dying to get into the duchy or Midias.”

“Right. And the dorms are supposed to be amazing.”

Jobs created by the Carius duke were insanely popular.

Shift work, plus solid benefits.

Bonuses for events and holidays, even.

Only nobles or knights would turn down such perks.

No, even they wouldn’t refuse extra pay.

“But I don’t know sewing at all, so I’m out.”

“Can’t help it. Gotta tell my wife and daughter to apply.”

“Would be nice if families could live in the dorms together. Sneak in, you know.”

“Not a bad idea?”

People soon sent family members to the Carius duchy.

But dorm assignments weren’t available.

One building had collapsed in the Margon incident, and there were too many workers already.

Disappointing, but people were satisfied enough.

A family member landing a quality job would make life much easier.

Not everyone applied with pure intentions, though.

“Be careful not to get caught. If it blows up, deny any connection to us.”

“Of course.”

“Succeed, and I’ll take you as a full apprentice.”

“Yes!”

Apprentice tailor Martin nodded firmly.

He’d picked up enough over-the-shoulder to pass hiring.

The key was stealing as much of the Carius duke’s fashion secrets as possible.

High nobles’ and royals’ styles were always hot topics.

Count Asrno’s dedicated tailor, Cosette, smirked rottenly.

“Heh heh! Idiot.”

Failure didn’t matter.

Just claim no connection.

Whether Martin knew Cosette’s thoughts or not, he tied his brown hair tightly, steeling his resolve.

He’d uncover the secrets, whatever they were.

But the moment he stepped into the Carius duchy, his eyes went wide.

“The ground… better than the capital?”

Martin lived in a rundown outskirts neighborhood.

Like most lower-class folk, in piloti-style homes mixed with livestock pens.

Rain always left the floor muddy, the manure stench numbing your nose.

But here?

Even regular carriage roads were cleanly paved.

No puddles despite yesterday’s rain.

Water drained perfectly through long gutters.

Clop clop!

“Whoa! Stop!”

Staring at the ground in a daze, noisy sounds came from behind.

A carriage speeding down the paved road.

Martin hastily stepped aside, tripping over the curb and tumbling.

Thud!

“Ouch!”

“Hey, you okay?”

The carriage stopped right in front.

The coachman asked with concern.

Martin brushed his butt and stood.

“Ah, yes.”

“There’s a separate sidewalk in the Carius duchy. Stick to where you’re standing now.”

“Huh?”

At the unheard-of concept, he tilted his head, and the coachman chuckled.

Martin’s reaction must’ve been amusing.

“Everyone looks like that at first. But once you get used to it, nothing better. Carriages can fly by safely.”

“Ah, right. No collisions.”

“Here for the interview?”

“Yes.”

“Hop on. I’m heading that way— I’ll drop you at the dorms.”

“Thank you.”

Martin sat beside the coachman, taking in the Carius duchy.

Not as flashy as the capital’s bustling areas, but neatly elegant.

Everything from roads to buildings impeccably organized.

“Here we are. Good luck. Maybe we’ll work together someday.”

“Yes, safe travels.”

Martin bowed to the coachman and entered the grand building ahead.

Felt like a territorial administration office.

But seeing crowds pouring out, that thought vanished.

“Huh? Isn’t this the interview place?”

He grabbed a man hurriedly and asked.

The unexpected reply came.

“Yes, but…”

“Then where’s everyone going?”

“To work. This is normally our dorm. Too many applicants, so using it as a waiting area for now.”

“Huh?”

Everything else blurred out.

A mere worker dorm this nice?

The man smiled faintly.

“Newcomers all react that way. Anyway.”

People moving leisurely, smiling.

Clearly lower-class like him, yet glowing with health.

Their clothes were roughly designed but made of quality fabric.

Having worked long under tailors, those details jumped out.

Martin suddenly thought,

“Wouldn’t just getting hired here be way better?”